Return to a Changed World
by adele4
Summary: Set after season one, Gwen/Merlin/Arthur. Something changed between Gwen and Arthur while Merlin was on the Island of the Blessed; it takes Merlin a while to realise that he's jealous – now if only he could figure out of who or what...


_Set after 1x13, hence spoilers for the first season. Gwen/Arthur/Merlin._

_Disclaimer__: BBC's Merlin isn't mine, I just borrow its things, play with them, and give them back; I make no profit with it._

* * *

**Return to a Changed World**

* * *

Something happened between Gwen and Arthur in the short time during which he's been gone; that much he can tell the very first time he sees the two of them meet after his return; Arthur is strolling towards the training court even though there's no way he can do any training with his injured arm, Gwen is passing them, on her way to Morgana's chambers, carrying a small silvery case; and it's blatant, the way Arthur stops in his tracks and glances at her with a half-smirk, the way Gwen's eyes widen and she hurries past, not even giving him, Merlin who's standing right behind the prince, a single look.

Merlin blinks stupidly while Arthur looks after her; this is _strange_. Arthur has never noticed Gwen before, and Gwen – well, it's difficult not to notice Arthur at all, of course, but, he analyses later, her attention to him was always in conjecture to someone else, the servants he used to bully, Morgana, him, Merlin, and this is different.

"What – was that?" he asks Arthur, who's still smiling faintly, pleased with himself, and that's a good thing, the injury and Merlin's unexplained absence which he's refused to explain have made him testy and difficult to deal with of late.

The prince whirls round and frowns at him.

"What are you talking about?" he asks, though without bite, and is back on his way, Merlin trailing after him with a sigh.

It makes him a little uneasy, like he's missed something important, like the Camelot he's come back to is a different one than the one he left, and this isn't right, Arthur and Gwen, Gwen even more, are comfortable constants in his life, they can't just shift around him like that without warning!

Of course, if it had been a single incident, he would have forgotten about it again. But it's not: in the afternoon of the next day, when the prince has returned to his chambers and is soothing his annoyance over his inability to hit anything with big sticks by stuffing his face with fresh grapes, while Merlin hovers in the background and wishes Arthur would leave him alone in the room just for a little while so he can clean up with magic instead of doing it by hand, there's a knock at the door.

"Enter!" Arthur says immediately, sounding eager, hopeful. "Guinevere!" he exclaims, with a delighted and somewhat predatory smile when the door opens to reveal the lady Morgana's handmaiden. "It's good of you to come to see how I'm recovering."

"I – what?" Gwen leaves the door open behind her and gives Arthur a slightly panicked glance. "That's not what I'm here for!" she protests; Arthur raises an eyebrow. "Not that I don't care whether you're recovering, because I do –"

"Did Morgana send you?" Merlin chimes in quickly, before his friend can dig herself in any further, and ignores the angry glare Arthur shoots him.

Gwen gives him a grateful smile.

"Yes. She wants to see you in the armoury." She briefly glances back at the prince. "I mean, she's in the armoury, and would like you to come –"

"We'll be there in a minute," Merlin says brightly, and closes the door behind her when Gwen flees after a small curtsy.

"Excuse me," Arthur says, looking at him petulantly from his chair. "Since when are you deciding what I do?"

"Oh, like you were going to refuse the lady Morgana's request," Merlin snaps back.

He's not sure why he suddenly feels so irritated; fine, there's the fact that Arthur isn't treating Gwen right, but aside from the extended greeting, he hasn't really been doing anything but not interrupting her, that's hardly offensive.

Arthur scowls at him, until he seems to think of something, and suddenly starts grinning and stands up and walks up to him; Merlin represses the urge to back away against the door. This can't be good.

"You said _we_ were going to be there," he says.

"I did?" asks Merlin, who did, but, seeing the way the fact makes Arthur grin like that, is thinking that he shouldn't have.

"You did," Arthur confirms cheerfully, and gently pulls him away from the door so he can open it, and draws an arm around his shoulders. "She wants to see me in the armoury, so that probably means there's a sword move she wants me to explain." That's probably true; the king closes his eyes over Morgana's improper sword-training, but she can't possibly be given a teacher – so she's left to learn by herself, from watching alone, and asking Arthur as the last resort. "And since I can't be expected to demonstrate anything," – at this, the prince vaguely waves his injured arm, and Merlin knows where this is going – "_you're_ going to."

Merlin sighs, and frees himself from the prince's embrace and follows him down to the armoury. It figures that when he's in no state to hit him with practice swords himself, he'd find a way to have someone else do it for him. Still, he's a little more cheerful by the time they arrive: Arthur's in a good mood, finally, and even seems to see perks in his condition, and sparring with Morgana might actually be fun.

* * *

Of course, he barely gets to actually spar. They find Morgana weighting different practice swords in her hand, smiling when she sees them, which makes Merlin breathe: he has not talked to her alone ever since her strange warning before his departure; he wishes he could ask her what she meant, but without prompting from her side, he doesn't dare, after Gaius' insistent warning, to broach the subject. It's good to see her looking rested for once, and determined – maybe this is how she has chosen to meet the impending tragedy she's been seeing. Or, more optimistically, maybe his killing Nimueh has erased the dark future she might have dreamt of; it can't have been set in stone; Sophia never killed Arthur, after all.

They grab their practice swords and find an empty hall near the armoury, where, while they can't be certain they'll be unobserved, they can at least claim they have been, which is as much as Uther will allow his ward; Gwen joins them shortly thereafter, dressed as she's been for their journey to Ealdor. It makes Merlin smile.

"Merlin!" Arthur jealously demands his attention back.

Merlin turns to him with a sigh.

"Yes, Sire."

"Come here."

"Why?" Merlin asks cautiously; he doesn't like the way Arthur is looking at him.

"Just do what I tell you for once," Arthur snaps, which is completely unfair, he does little else all day, but when he sees Morgana give Arthur an annoyed look from the corner of his eyes, he decides to obey before they all get caught up in an argument between the two of them.

As soon as he's in reach, Arthur grabs him on both shoulders and whirls him round, so Merlin's back is to him.

"You're not supposed to –" – use your arm, he's been about to finish, and turns back towards the prince in the process.

"Will you hold still?" Arthur interrupts. "Turn back." Merlin frowns but does. "Right." The prince drapes his good arm around his waist, like he's afraid Merlin will move again; he's pressed close against his back, and pushed against his right leg with his own leg behind him. "Move that leg." Merlin stumbles forwards, and it's a good thing Arthur has an arm around him, on reflection, it saves him from falling over. "Not _both_, idiot. Here, move your other leg back against – _don't step on my foot! _"

"Sorry," Merlin mutters, without managing to bring up much sincerity; he's now flush against Arthur's body, feet and legs mimicking the position of the body behind him, and Arthur is breathing into his neck; it's – not comfortable. "Look –"

Arthur, of course, ignores him; he beckons Morgana closer, who rolls her eyes at him but seems to be really interested in learning that move because she only steps closer and leans over him – he can smell her perfume – to observe the position of his legs, and _God_ –

Over Morgana's head, he casts Gwen a panicked look, and he's not certain if he can really feel Arthur being aroused or if this is his imagination playing tricks on him, but in either case it really doesn't help; Gwen, standing by the wall, gives him a sympathetic smile.

"Stay like that," Arthur commands into the back of his neck, sending a shiver all through him, and steps back, but without ever ceasing to touch him, and takes one of his arms, to position it as well; Morgana takes one look at his face and mercifully takes a step back, out of his personal space.

"If that's the only way you find to demonstrate –" she remarks.

"If you don't like it, find someone else to show you," Arthur throws back aggressively.

Morgana raises one perfect eyebrow; Merlin tries to look somewhere else, but somewhere else turns out to be Arthur's face, on his right, visibly flushed.

"You think I won't?"

"Just – look," Arthur says. "Stand beside him, and take the same stance – Merlin, can you stop _trembling_?" Morgana snorts and stands beside him. "Right, just like this," Arthur adds, looking at them. "Now – "Gwen is already next to him, holding out two practice swords, hilt first; Arthur stares and opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, then just silently takes them.

"Thank you, Gwen," Morgana says pointedly when Arthur hands her one of them.

"Good. Morgana, you need to rise your right – yes, like that. Now when I –" He interrupts himself, only now seeming to remember he can't demonstrate an attack either. "Merlin." He makes gestures at him.

Merlin takes a deep breath and shuffles over; Morgana gives him a friendly smile, which is, actually, no help at all, and Arthur is about to drag him closer when they're interrupted:

"I can do it," Gwen offers, and is beside them, holding out a hand for the weapon.

Arthur lets go of Merlin's arm which he's grabbed a second ago, and the look that crosses his face as he looks at Gwen strangely resembles panic. Morgana crosses her arms and glares at him, though whether it's to dare him to accept or to refuse, Merlin can't tell.

"I – don't think –" Arthur says; Merlin turns to him, concerned; Gwen looks him square in the face, open and in no way insolent, yet just a little bit challenging. Merlin wonders how she does it. "No."

"It's fine," Merlin says into the silence that seems heavy with unspoken things. "Just tell me what I'm supposed to do."

"Oh, that will work," Arthur snarls sarcastically, and Merlin can't help the feeling that he keeps lashing out at _him_ because he's an easier target than the two women. "Because you're so good at following instructions."

* * *

All in all, it works surprisingly well. Thankfully, Arthur only starts making fun of him for losing to Morgana once they're alone, so Morgana doesn't hear it, and Arthur's good mood stays intact. Merlin grabs the opportunity to ask once they're back in Arthur's rooms:

"What's going on between you and Gwen?"

Only, even as he says this, he realises that he really should have known all along, maybe did and ignored it: as prone as Gwen is to furious back-pedalling and stumbling over words, it's not actually her default mode – only, it's the one she does default to when she has a crush, and –

He's not sure why he finds this that annoying.

"Nothing," says Arthur in a neutral way, and marks a pause before adding: "She took care of me for a while when I was injured and you were gone. Sat by my bedside, sponged my forehead with cold water. When Gaius was exhausted." He doesn't look at him.

Merlin sighs, and fights to avoid rolling his eyes at Arthur's lack of subtlety; he's been saying things like that ever since Merlin's return from the Island of the Blessed, and it made Merlin absolutely furious, the unfairness of it, until he realised that Arthur is just trying to provoke him into finally telling him where he's been – and, in a convoluted and very _Arthur_ way, it's almost sweet. Clearly, he cares much more than he lets on.

"Right," Merlin says, when Arthur seems to expect an answer; he decides not to argue the point, because he's still under the shock of his sudden realisation. No wonder Gwen was so panicked and evasive when he asked her what was going on. "Anything else you need me for?"

Arthur blinks at him, looking disgruntled yet again, and it breaks Merlin's heart, it really does, to leave him alone in that state, but he needs a little time to himself, he can't put up with an unsatisfied Arthur right now; so, before Arthur can come up with something – because he always does, it almost tarnishes his image as a spoiled prince how well he knows all the small tasks that need to be done around his person – Merlin quickly adds: "Great! See you later then!", and flees.

He's meant to go to the forest, maybe collect a few herbs for Gaius on the way, but he's tired, and his feet take him back him to his room without him fully realising it until he sinks down on his bed, sitting at the edge.

So, Gwen is in love with Arthur. Of course she is. Maybe it already started earlier, and he just didn't notice? And Arthur – he doesn't know about Arthur, but he's paying attention. He's teasing her; Arthur doesn't tease people, safe for him, and maybe, sometimes, Morgana; it's completely weird. And Gwen –

He lets himself fall down on the bed. God, why is he thinking about this so much, he's not jealous, is he? He's not in love with Gwen. Gwen is a great friend, and the kindest person he knows, and being kissed by her was fantastic, and he does love her, but he's not _in love_ with her. He would know, wouldn't he? There'd be some kind of sign, an inner one. He's not worried about her either; Arthur is an arsehole, utterly, but he wouldn't harm Gwen in any way, if only because Morgana would have his head... And he's certainly not worried about _Arthur_, Gwen is no strange otherworldly creature who'll sell his soul and, well, she's _Gwen_.

* * *

"_Mer_lin!"

Just an instant ago he was lost in a bizarre dream in which Morgana chased him through the hedge labyrinth with sword-shaped cookies, but there's only one person who says his name with that accent, and within an instant he's wide awake; he blinks his eyes open, and finds himself staring straight at the prince, who's leaned down above him, very close.

He feels his heart flutter oddly, and briskly sits up; Arthur just only has time to get out of his way.

"What?" Merlin eventually manages. "Did anything happen?"

"_Yes_. You," Arthur says, and crosses his arms. "Ran away on me to go and _sleep_."

Merlin breathes out in relief.

"I was tired?" he offers.

"Are you ill?" Arthur asks, and manages to look concerned and contemptuous and angry all at once, seeming to think that Merlin being ill would be a personal insult to him, crown prince of Camelot.

"I don't think so?" Merlin tries, because leaving the option open means Arthur will leave him in peace for a bit – but then the concern in his expression becomes more pronounced, and he can't help but add: "No, I'm fine. Just – tired."

Arthur smiles at him happily.

"From that little training? You're hopeless." He cocks his head to the side, and pulls slightly on Merlin's nearest sleeve. "Come," he adds, and somehow, it's not an order; Merlin obeys anyway.

* * *

That's not the end of it, of course, quite the contrary; in the next days, Merlin finds himself witnessing similar scenes again and again: Gwen, stopping to talk to Arthur, or being stopped by him, either happens equally frequently; and then Gwen will speak and not know how to stop, and Arthur will just stand there, cruelly not interrupting her, until Merlin intervenes.

One incident in particular stands in his memory; they pass Gwen who's hurrying past with a bucket of water; Arthur blinks, looking lost for a moment, before, with his usual confidence, he offers to carry it for her; Gwen eyes become wide, and she babbles "of course, if you want – I mean, thank you, sire it's –" and though Arthur rushes through the court and to her destination faster than she would have, she is, Merlin is sure, very much late.

They are, doubtlessly, flirting, in their own weird way; it's very different from when Arthur was courting Sophia, no pre-conceived courtly gestures, just this tentative back and forth, and – Merlin has no idea why it clenches his heart every time, why he's almost glad to drag Arthur away under a pretext.

"You could have told me," he says to Gwen, a day after his realisation, and motions Arthur, who's on the practice ground with the knights, with his head.

Gwen blushes.

"Oh – I." She glances down, at the bouquet she's collecting for her lady, though it's a cover, mostly, so she can be outside here; Morgana would approve. "It's not – I'm only..." She glances down. "I do not like you any less," she manages, bravely.

"Okay," Merlin says, throughout confused; and that's all that's said on the matter for a time.

* * *

As far as he knows, Arthur doesn't have any affairs, and who would know if not him? Of course there's the rumours; there's that one laundry girl who boasts about it, though it's widely believed that she's making it up; and there's Emma, in the kitchens, now in her forties, who's reputed for having introduced the prince to certain things; but it is also suspected that her extreme discretion about the matter steams simply from the fact that there is nothing to tell. And then, of course, there are the things they say about the knights and long campaigns, and Merlin is almost positive that he's seen Arthur with his hand down Sir Edmond's pants that on time in the armoury, but when he appeared it was over so fast that he might have imaged it, though why he would be imaging Arthur putting his hand down anyone's pants...

The point is, he has no idea how Arthur would behave in such a liaison, and clearly, it is his duty as their friend to find out. To then – fix it.

And because he's desperate, the next day, over breakfast, he asks Gaius.

"Do you know if Arthur's ever had any – uhm. You know? With anyone?"

He can't even bring himself to say it, and he's hoping now that Gaius doesn't understand what he's getting at and he can let it drop.

Gaius, who's stood up already and is studying the content of a large glass – and Merlin briskly has the notion that maybe his medical research and creation shouldn't be mixed so closely with breakfast; but he pushes the concern aside for more pressing matters – turns back toward him and raises an eyebrow at him; Merlin stops eating.

"Any particular reason why you ask?" he says, eventually, and Merlin is sometimes not quite sure if Gaius is making fun of him or not; he sounds perfectly serious, but...

"I was just... wondering," he mumbles, staring back down at his bowl; this was a stupid idea.

"Well," Gaius says after a moment of thought. "They did say, at the time, that Emma, that girl in –"

"Never mind," Merlin stops him quickly; he doesn't need to hear that story more often than absolutely necessary, and the faraway look on Gaius' face is freaking him out. "I'll be go –"

"Merlin," Gaius says, kindly. "Is this about Gwen?"

"Gwen?" Gaius just looks at him. "No, why would this have anything to do with Gwen?"

For a moment, it seems like Gaius is about to push the point, then he shakes his head.

"Never mind."

Merlin slips away gratefully.

* * *

He wishes he could slip back inside not long after, help the court physician in his work or study magic in his room; anything but being stuck in the castle with Arthur, in a strange, nervous mood – is that what love does to him? – ordering him around. He's carrying a basket of laundry when he passes a window – he has a vague memory of being told not to use the main corridor, it's improper, but he's not going to walk a longer way just because he's not decorative enough – and finds prince prat in person standing in the court right under the window.

Merlin cranes his neck to try and see who he's talking to; eventually, the other person appears in his line of vision: Gwen, arms full of flowers, and Merlin can't help but stop to stare down at them.

"They're hopeless, aren't they?" someone says behind him.

Merlin literally jumps, almost lets the basket fall down; he hasn't heard her approach.

"Lady Morgana..."

He always gets a little flustered by her when he's not prepared for her presence; it's an effect she has on a lot of people.

Morgana smiles at him kindly, and comes to stand beside him at the window.

"Arthur is, I mean," she amends. "But she should know that by now. They'll never get anywhere if she doesn't make the first move." She glances at him. "I'm sorry," she adds quietly. "This must be difficult for you."

"For me?" Merlin stares at her, a little panicked; is she too thinking...? "Why?"

Morgana only smiles at him kindly, and lets her gaze trail back to the window; Arthur has taken one of Gwen's flowers, and is now carefully trying to attach it to her hair; all the while teasing her, Merlin guesses by what he can make out of Gwen's demeanour, and because he knows Arthur.

"I'm not in love with Gwen," Merlin feels prudent to say: Morgana has never been anything but kind to him, but he doesn't want to know what she'd do if she thought he'd been leading on Gwen; even as he says it, he realises that maybe such a strong denial is not the best course.

Morgana's head whips round, and she stares at him with wide eyes.

"You're in love with _Gwen_?" she asks, sounding truly, honestly shocked.

"No!" Merlin says, and stumbles back a few steps, confused; why would Morgana think that seeing Gwen and Arthur is difficult for him unless – oh.

_Oh. _

* * *

Right, he thinks, later, when he's fled the court completely for a nice, peaceful patch in the woods. He's been attacked by a Gryphon not far from here once, but what are the odds of it happening twice? (Not that bad, considering Camelot's high quota of magical creatures, but Merlin feels up to battling them more than to having to face either of his friends right now.)

Right. So maybe he is just a little bit infatuated with Arthur, what with the unconditional devotion and the readiness to do anything for him – he's not sure when this started, only that it's so self-evident to him that it doesn't even seem in any way impressive, of course he would, this is Arthur – and maybe he can't put it down to Morgana or Gwen's proximity alone if he gets inappropriately aroused when Arthur is draped all over him to show Morgana a move.

Fine – he loves Arthur, he can admit that much, even if he rather wouldn't, because he's certain he will spend the rest of his life by Arthur's side, and acknowledging this might make some of it a little awkward, especially the bits where he dresses and undresses the prince on a daily basis.

That still doesn't explain anything, he thinks, listlessly looking over the mushrooms at his feet. He loved Arthur – enough to kill two human-like creatures right after being shown the wonders of their magical world for him without a second thought, and he never regretted it – when Sophia came along, and he wasn't jealous then. He helped Arthur to spend time with her! Why would he, now that there is Gwen, whom he likes (doesn't love, only he's beginning to be less certain about that as well...) react like this?

Because it's like losing both of them? But they're not gone, and it's not like he ever had a chance to – Arthur has casual sex with guys, apparently, but that's it, and he's not withdrawn or shy, if he had any interest... Of course, the one time Merlin saw him in love, he was under a spell, so maybe that didn't count.

"Merlin!"

Merlin whirls round, and is relieved when he sees it's Gaius coming up the path, not either of the two he's currently puzzling over.

"Here!" he calls back.

"What are you doing here?" Gaius asks, when he reaches him.

"Collecting mushrooms?" Merlin tries.

"I can see that," Gaius remarks, looking down at the untouched patch by Merlin's feet.

"I'm studying a spell that will do it for m – Ow!" he cries out as Gaius swats him over the head.

"Don't talk about that," the physician says sternly. "Prince Arthur has come by three times since you left."

Merlin bites down a groan, and thinks that maybe it's no wonder he's managed to repress the fact he's in love with Arthur so well – he doesn't understand it at all at times.

He stands up.

"What does he want _now_?" he asks.

"You're his servant, he has a right to expect you to be there," Gaius says, while they make their way back to the town; and in a gentler tone, he adds: "I think he's worried."

"About what?"

"You. He's tried to question me about where you have been during his illness."

Merlin sighs and avoids his gaze.

"I can hardly tell him, can I?" he says, helplessly. "I'll see what he – oh."

He stops when he sees the familiar figure standing in front of the physician's quarters, and heaves another sigh. Gaius gives his arm a sympathetic pat.

"There you are," Arthur drawls.

"Sire," says Merlin. "Uhm, I was collecting mushrooms. For Gaius." He gives the physician a pleading glance; Gaius nods in conformations to Arthur, who raises his eyebrows. "Couldn't find any..." Merlin adds, smiling hopefully.

"Is there anything you aren't hopeless at?" Arthur says, and grabs his arm to drag him closer possessively. "Come on, I need you for something."

Merlin looks after Gaius as the man disappears inside, then briskly jerks his arm free; he's never allowed himself to truly become aware of how much he and Arthur touch over the course of a day, and now he can't help it, it's right at the top of his mind, with the realisation of just how familiar Arthur's touch is, he'd recognise it in his sleep...

* * *

"_You_ want to do this passing noble a favour, so _I_ get to look after his horse while he's gone?" Merlin repeats, in the despairing hope that he's understood something wrong about the order Arthur just gave him.

Arthur has dragged him to the stables, and they're now standing in front of the box of a nice-looking brown horse that's peacefully chewing on some hay and ignoring them completely; Merlin eyes it with suspicion; it would just be his luck if the animal was secretly feral in top of it.

"Yep," Arthur says brightly, and pats him on the shoulder with more force than strictly necessary. "I'm glad you're keeping up for once, Merlin."

"So _I'm_ doing him a favour. What do _you_ have to do with it?"

"I," Arthur explains, with a long-suffering sigh whose effect is rather spoiled by the huge grin in his face, "am graciously lending him my own manservant for this. Of course," he adds, "he doesn't actually know you."

"I could introduce myself?" Merlin tries, sourly; it's really a bit rich that Arthur can treat him like something to generously _share_ with others and insult his skills in one breath. "Fine, I'll do it. But you can find someone else to look after _your_ horses in the meantime."

Arthur crosses his arms.

"Just now you were gone 'collecting mushrooms' without even bringing anything to carry them in." Merlin glowers; what is it with Arthur's extremely selective perspicacity? "Last time I looked for you, you were sleeping in the middle of the day. You're hardly overworked."

"Maybe I was asleep _because_ –"

"There, Guinevere agrees with me," Arthur interrupts, glancing over Merlin's shoulders, the look on his face half wonder and half mischief.

Merlin turns round, to find Gwen passing through the court, carrying a basket; she stops where she is when she becomes aware of them watching her, curtsies vaguely. She glances from him to Arthur questioningly.

Merlin half-turns to look at Arthur, who, oddly, is not insisting on the point, and suddenly feels strange and out of place between the two of them: the worse is that he can see how they could be good together...

"Right," he mumbles, and both of them direct their attention back to him. "I'll – be going."

He makes it to the outskirt of the courtyard before Arthur catches up with him and drags him back to the stables.

* * *

"I hate him. I really, really do," he says, in a voice that's slightly altered from tiredness.

"You know you don't mean that," says Gwen kindly, and pushes one of the cups of water she got into his hand.

They're at the edge of the training ground, in the shadow of a few trees, absently not really watching the training – Arthur is there, in armour even, though he can't yet participate – and Merlin is exhausted. Still, he wouldn't want to change places with any of the knights.

"No, I know I do," Merlin repeats. "Thank you." He sips the water; Gwen graciously sits back down next to him, carefully leaning against one of the trunks. "I don't know what w – what you see in him."

Right there, Merlin finds that the whole romantic entanglement he's been so occupied with is trivial compared to Arthur's prattishness. Gwen bits her lips and looks down.

"Sorry," Merlin mutters, realising he's embarrassing her.

Gwen glances back up with a smile.

"I just – sire."

"Guinevere. Merlin." Merlin doesn't even look up when he hears the familiar voice; they didn't notice the training stopped. "Were you talking about me behind my back?" the prince adds, and crouches down next the Merlin, who casts him an annoyed glance; sweat is sticking his hair to his forehead, but overall, he looks not all that exhausted, which Merlin finds pretty unfair. "Merlin, I mean," Arthur adds, with a smirk. "Guinevere only says good things about me when she thinks I can't hear her."

"I was saying that you you're a prat," Merlin snaps. "And you can find someone else to get you out of that armour, I'm not doing it."

"What was he talking about?" he asks Gwen, when, to his surprise, Arthur doesn't insist and leaves them.

"Just something I said when he was unconscious," Gwen says. "It's nothing." Merlin is curious, but he doesn't push it. "You changed him," Gwen adds, wistfully. "No, that's not – you brought out something better in him."

"Thank you?" Merlin says, with an uncertain smile; Gwen smiles back. "He was worse when I first met him," he admits.

"He was," Gwen confirms, and presses her lips together. "Things will be better when he..." She trails off; it takes Merlin a moment to understand what the bit she hasn't dared saying out loud was; maybe it's what helped her get her life back together after her father's death, this concrete hope; he looks down; whatever the source of his jealousy, he feels guilty for it now.

"They will be," he agrees quietly.

Gwen smiles again, and passes a sleeve over her eyes even though Merlin can see no trace of tears at all; then she looks at him, and her eyes widen at what she sees, and hastily she says:

"I wouldn't want to come between you, of course. Not that I think I could..."

"What?" Merlin asks dumbfounded.

"I mean – you have that whole sacrificing and risking your life for each other thing going, and I don't –"

"Gwen, are you talking about me and Arthur?" Merlin almost laughs. "You wouldn't be coming between us, that's – and don't talk like you don't matter as much as –" He stops; he realises that he's probably babbling as much as she often is, but this is strange and he doesn't know how to react.

Gwen turns a bit to face him completely, with a serious look on her face, takes a deep breath, and then leans closer and kisses him for a long, delicious moment.

When she draws back, Merlin stays motionless and stares at her, mouth still open, flustered. Gwen stares back with equally wide eyes and something pleading in her gaze; then she takes another deep breath, and stands up.

"I – better be going. My lady might need me." She turns away, then back towards Merlin. "I – sorry."

Merlin stares after her.

* * *

"Did you kiss Guinevere?" are the first words out of Arthur's mouth next morning.

Merlin avoided him for the rest of the last day so he can't load more work on him, and he's late now; consequently, Arthur is already up and dressed when he arrives with his breakfast, and he doesn't even stop to complain about it.

"What?" Merlin says, and puts the tray down in front of Arthur in the last moment, before he lets it fall down in surprise instead.

He has no idea what to think of that kiss himself (except, maybe _"wow"_, but that's not exactly helpful), and of the things Gwen said about him and Arthur either, and he really doesn't want to discuss any of it with the prince.

"Several of the knights saw you," Arthur adds severely.

"So they told you? What, are you guys gossiping about these things?" Arthur just gives him a dark look. "Yes, alright. Yes, I did." He'd add that _Gwen_ kissed _him_, not the other way round, but that feels somewhat unkind and boastful – and it's not that he didn't like it, aside from the utter confusion it brought.

"Ah." Something seems to close up in Arthur's face. There's a pause. "You're late."

"Yes," Merlin says, with a sigh, and wanders over to the prince's bed to rearrange the sheets. "Sorry." He glances back at Arthur, who hasn't yet started to eat. "But it wasn't – I mean, if you like her, you could just make a move on her."

Instead of the simple, maybe defensive denial he expected, Arthur turns to glare at him.

"No, I could not," he snaps. "I'm the crown prince and she's – it wouldn't be proper."

Merlin lets the cushion he just picked up fall back down.

"What are you talking about? Don't tell me that because of her station you won't –"

"I can't proposition to a servant, they might feel obligated to agree," Arthur says importantly.

Merlin squints at him.

"I know that you're not – I'm not telling you to go ask her to have sex with you! And it's Gwen, Morgana would..." He makes a vague gesture; he's not sure _what_ she would do, but he's positive it would be painful. "Gwen knows that."

"Thank you for the invaluable advice," Arthur says sourly. "Now go on with your work and let me eat."

Merlin represses a sigh and obeys, makes the bed and recollects the clothes that are scattered on the floor, just to annoy him, he's sure, and Arthur's almost finished eating when he thinks of something.

"So you've never...? With a servant?" Somehow, despite of the lack of rumours, he finds this hard to believe.

Arthur turns and frowns at him in that disbelieving way of his that he gets when he's surprised by Merlin's lack of respect, but he answers.

"Yes, I have. It's – not a good idea."

"Oh," says Merlin, and wets his dry lips. "But what if – I mean, you know Gwen isn't afraid of you. And _I'm_ not."

"You're an idiot," Arthur says curtly, and looks at him attentively. "So, if I told you to come over here and suck my cock you wouldn't do it?"

"W –" Merlin's mouth is dry, and blood rushes briskly to an unmentionable part of his body, just like that. "No!"

"Or," Arthur adds and stands up, and the attentive, almost cautious look on his face forms a strange contrast with his assured steps when he walks up to him. "If I tried to kiss you..." His face is only inches away from his, his lips, as he speaks almost graze his. "... if I pushed my hand down..." He lets a hand hover above his groin, then lays it down, very lightly, and Merlin shudders all over. "... you would stop me?"

"You –" Merlin starts, and then he can't take it anymore, drags Arthur closer and kisses him, so desperately that their teeth scrap against each other and Arthur makes an annoyed sound in the back of his throat but kisses back, and, unconsciously, closes a hand around him through his pants. "God..." Merlin moans weakly, against the side of Arthur's mouth.

"Merlin," Arthur answers, his voice strange, careful.

Merlin takes a very small step back, and their hands fall away.

"If you don't – if this is just about relieving tension or –"

"You idiot," Arthur snaps.

"Oh, that's reassuring," Merlin says sarcastically, even though in truth, it is. "Look – I love you. I really do."

Arthur makes a face like he's eating something unpleasant; Merlin crosses his arms, as much in an attempt to keep his beating heart under control as anything else.

"Fine," Arthur snaps. "I love you too. You girl." Merlin grins. "Don't expect me to say this again, I can't be heard making love declarations to my manservant."

He tries to make that face again, but he's smiling a little too, now, and he looks happy, which, Merlin thinks, happens far too rarely.

The tension is gone, all the sudden, even though Merlin is still hard; but there's something missing. Someone.

"So..." Merlin says, slowly. "Gwen?"

Arthur passes a hand though his hair in frustration, and starts to pace through the room. Merlin watches him for a moment, then goes to lean against the table. The thought of the two of them – whatever it is, exactly, that they have, but it's good, that much he's sure of – together and Gwen left leaves him with that strange feeling as seeing the two of them flirt in their own strange way did.

Arthur stops briskly and looks at him.

"The two of you did kiss only yesterday," he states. Merlin nods uncertainly, and wonders, hopefully now, if maybe this was what Gwen secretly had in mind all along, if this was what her apparently contradictory declarations meant. "Right! We can make this work." He straightens up. "You know where she is at this time of the day?"

Merlin pushes himself off the table and nods, and decides not to mention that she's probably with Morgana, because that's one thing that's likely to make Arthur's resolve vanish again. Not that he looks forward to it either, but he doubts they can keep whatever comes of this from Morgana anyway.

"Come on then," Arthur says, and slings an arm around him and grins, then lets go of him again and walks to the door. "But clean up my breakfast first," he adds, over his shoulder, and Merlin can only glare at his back and the closed door.

* * *

Arthur is lying in the centre of the bed – it is, on the long run, too small for three people, they'll have to do something about that – naked, stretched out languorously, one arm drawn around each one of them, a goofy, satisfied smile in his lips, and looking like the happiest prince in the world.

Merlin nuzzles against his side, feeling pleasantly tired, and boneless and peaceful, and of course Arthur has to ruin it.

"I think I'll get you married to each other," he declares, and drags each of them closer to himself.

Merlin brushes his arm off and sits up; Gwen, on his other side, pushes herself up on one elbow and raises her eyebrows.

"You _what? _" Merlin splutters. "_Get_ us – you –"

"Just in case," Arthur clarifies, with a side-glance at Gwen.

Gwen tenses at the sudden attention.

"That's not," she says, and breaks off. "No offence, I'm sure you'd make a great husband, Merlin, just – what I mean is, I can take care of myself. I wouldn't have gotten into this if I didn't think so," she finishes, with quiet dignity.

Merlin leans over Arthur's chest, meets her halfway for one deep kiss.

"Are you saying that you were _expecting_ that unless you are bound by marriage, I and Merlin would abandon you if were with child?" Arthur asks, meanly.

"That's not what she said at all," Merlin snaps, before Gwen, eyes widening, can reply. "Why aren't _you_ offering to marry anyone instead of treating us like goods?"

"I'm the _prince_," Arthur protests. "And you're..." He makes a vague, encompassing gesture that seems addressed to Merlin as much, or even more, as to Gwen.

Merlin narrows his eyes at him, sits up completely, and moves to trap one of his legs between his; it's time Arthur learned how not to behave, especially when naked and outnumbered.

"Gwen?" he says, slowly trailing a finger down Arthur's stomach.

Gwen's smile is gentle and sweet; but she nods.

* * *

The End


End file.
